Lost Innocence 2
by solista
Summary: How did Scott decide to visit an absent father.


**Lost Innocence**

**Part 2**

Boston Harbor at low tide, the affluently dressed young man breathed in the scents of the harbor just as the older, just as well dressed man beside him drew out a silk handkerchief and pushed it under his refined nose.

Scott Garrett Lancer smiled as he caught the motion from the corner of his blue eyes, "Wilfred, as long as you have lived in Boston, one would think your olfactory senses would be immune to the fish and oil smells and….."

Scott smiled to himself as the pompous lawyer drew himself up and cleared his throat with the politeness of correct aplomb.

With a delft wave of the hankie the man snorted, "Master Scott, if I had not lived my whole life on the hill, this would have no effect on me, however, since my station in life is above all this grunting and sweating I find it most undesirable, but a necessary fact of everyday life."

Scott nodded, "as well as the fact grandfather expressly requested your presence as he disembarked".

With a flap of the white hankie, Wilfred pushed it back under his nose and harrumphed his opinion.

Harlan Garrett was a very influential man in and around Boston, starting out as an accountant his empire grew as well as the reputation of a formable opponent in business.

Scott spotted his distinguished looking grandfather as the man made his way down the gangplank of the clipper ship.

The older man was in discussion with another man Scott did not recognize, but his grandfather had a way about garnering those whom could come in useful in some business deal.

Upon seeing his Scott, Harlan Garrett directed the stranger to look then smiled as his young grandson lifted a gloved hand and waved. It was good to come home to someone, a friendly face. Beside Scott was Wilfred White, his solicitor for many years and the only man who knew the workings of Harlan Garrett's' mind and who knew the hard, cold side of the financier.

"Grandfather", Scott stepped forward and shook the older man's hand then politely stepped aside as the lawyer also gave the man's hand a solid shake.

"Scotty it is so good to see a friendly face, I have missed you boy. Wilfred thank you for coming, this is Doctor Jameson Wells, a most enjoyable traveling companion on the journey back. I have invited the good doctor to stay with us Scotty."

The tall blond young man looked the doctor over and gave him a polite smile, "Welcome to Boston Doctor Wells. If you gentlemen would excuse me I will make arrangements for your luggage."

Making eye contact with his grandfather Scott's blue eyes held admonishment and a coldness, "grandfather I may be late tonight. Excuse my absence but I have an engagement I cannot push aside. Doctor, I will see you in the morning", with a turn he touched his gloved hand to his hat, "Wilfred".

Walking away from the older men Scott was fuming inside, ever since coming home from the war his grandfather was under the impression that he had scars for life.

Dodging incoming and outgoing passengers and stevedores at their task the young man collected his jumbled thoughts.

The days he spent during the war at the front of the lines and the year imprisoned in a Confederate Prisoner of War Camp was it any wonder that he did not have nightmares and times he would pull into himself.

Attending to the sorting and loading of the trunks and luggage of his grandfather and his 'guest' Scott walked away from the hustle and bustle of the shipping wharves. He needed quiet, comfort and he knew just where to go. With a lightness of step he hurried on his way to his 'gentlemen's club' and it was just noon, he smirked, totally outside protocol and decency.

**Pulling Oneself Together**

Scott smiled up at the young 'lady' she knew what he needed and never disappointed, even under the expert hands of Yvette Scotts' mind wandered.

He was finding it hard to work under his grandfather's tutelage in the offices of Garrett Enterprises. His social calendar full, his 'friends' and associates many and he still felt alone.

Maybe grandfather was right maybe he needed a doctor, glancing at the young woman who moved away from him and stood, hands on slim hips and a pout on her full lips, "I am sorry Yvette, I am not good company today. Forgive me?"

The dark-haired woman could not resist the dashing, handsome man, she knew his thoughts would at times turn dark as he remembered the war, "Ah Monsieur Scott, it is the dark times you remember."

Scott nodded and began to move from the chaise he had been lounging in, "Yes, the darkness never goes away. You, however, do give me solace for a short time, perhaps later."

Pulling on her dressing gown Yvette watched as the young man pulled his own clothing to rights, and to herself thought, 'for one so young to have such tragedy,' "perhaps you just need a change away from this city and your grandfather, to find that part of you to make you whole."

Scott smiled as he smoothed the fabric of his jacket, "if I did not know better I would say you were more adept at deciphering my angst than any doctor of psychology. You should start charging doctor's fees."

"I can see for myself you are not happy, not like before this terrible war," she linked her arm through his as she walked him to the door",find a way to be happy again, and you will find a light to chase away the darkness."

Scott laid a light kiss to the dark curls of Yvette's head, "you are a light in my darkness."

"No I am but a candle, somewhere out there is a light as bright as the sun. Seek it out Mon Cher, be as you were," Yvette patted his arm and smiled, "now go before grandpapa sends someone to find you".

Scott carefully placed the hat on his blond head and walked down the staircase, 'a light, hummm, maybe I do need a change.'

His thoughts turned for a time from the darkness; he did relish a challenge and an adventure, 'hope something comes soon.'

Standing on the sidewalk outside of his gentleman's club Scott took a critical look around, Boston no longer held his attention, and the work with his grandfather bored him to tears.

Lifting a hand he hailed a taxi, settled within he told the driver the address of his grandfather's home. A nice bath, a small repast and then he would dress to escort Barbara to dinner, the opera then… well some things just take time.

He would consider a trip somewhere, not Europe he was not interested and he had already seen everything he had wanted to see. Perhaps a train ride, just ride the tracks until something caught his fancy. A small grin crossed his lips, grandfather would have a tantrum, well can't be helped.

**Unexpected Events**

"Scotty", his grandfather's voice called to him as he descended the ornate staircase, "I had hoped you would stay in tonight as we have a guest".

Scott continued his descent, pulling on his white gloves he slowly made his way to stand beside the older man, "The doctor is your guest, sir. I am sorry, with all propriety I cannot leave the lady standing. If I had known you dragged another 'doctor' to try and crack the barrier in my head I most assuredly would have cancelled all engagements."

Harlan Garrett was becoming tired of his only grandson's sarcastic remarks; things were getting out of hand, "Scotty I will not tolerate that tone of voice. See you come home early, we have things to discuss."

"I am sure 'we' do grandfather. However I will attend a fete after the opera and you know how those things can go into the early morning hours," Taking his cape, walking stick, and hat from the butler; "I will see you and 'your' guest on the morrow. Goodnight grandfather."

With a tip of slim fingers to hat brim the young man was out the door leaving a frustrated older man, "I just don't know what to think of Scotty, Doctor Wells, one minute a dutiful heir then this, disrespectful, sarcastic. We must find a way to bring my Scotty back."

The taller thin faced man placed a hand on the shoulder of his benefactor, "I will get to the bottom of his psychosis, and I assure you the young man will be good as new".

"**You May Delay, **

**But Time Will Not."**

Benjamin Franklin

Murdoch Lancer was flat on his back in bed, an ambush embedding a bullet close to his spine. That same coward killed his best friend.

Paul O'Brien had been with him from the beginning, employee, friend, and confidant now dead, his daughter an orphan. Teresa would have a place forever at Lancer while he lived; he had sworn it over the grave of his friend.

Twisting towards the nightstand beside the bed, he bit back a grunt of pain as it lanced across his back, reaching for the envelope his fingers missing by inches.

"What are you doing", the shrill voice of the young woman broke his determination, "Doctor Jenkins said no twisting, turning, sitting or standing",

Teresa approached the bed, small hands fisted onto her slim hips, "just what is so important you couldn't wait for me to help you?"

"Darling, you've had a lot to deal with, your father's funeral while I was too sick to even know or care," Murdoch's face relaxed as the pain gradually eased, "You need some time for yourself."

Picking up the envelope with the Pinkerton emblem, she lay the missive into his hands, "I don't want to be alone, and I need to be doing something. Please don't send me away."

Her brown doe eyes filled with tears, and her bottom lip trembled, "all I can think about is Daddy laying under the ground on the hill".

"Come here darling," the big rancher opened his arms, and the young girl fell into his comforting embrace", I'll never send you anywhere you don't want to go. But it's not safe here anymore not with the land pirates…"

Pulling herself back and standing as tall as her petite height would allow, "you and Daddy both taught me how to use a rifle and ride a horse. I am no demure city girl, I have Lancer dirt under my finger nails, and this is my home."

Murdoch had to smile at the young woman, feisty as a colt and tough as nails, "you are right my dear, you were born on Lancer and that's just as good as having Lancer blood. But you listen to me young woman, if worse comes to worse you will leave with the other women to the safety of town, understand?"

Teresa smiled down at her guardian, "if and only if you compose those letters to the Pinkerton agency and seek your sons return to Lancer".

Murdoch grew solemn, "I know your father talked to you about my sons. So I can only say they may not heed my request. Scott is a full-grown man, a life of his own in Boston and Johnny, well I still harbor fears about his return.

An Eastern dandy and a border town gunfighter, I just don't know sweetheart."

Teresa saw the conflict in the older man's face, "Daddy always said you'd never find out unless you try".

Looking into the eyes of his ward, "and your Daddy was a smart man I could always rely on him for advice. I guess I'm more afraid of being turned down cold and never seeing my sons again."

Teresa rushed to his bedside, "Oh they couldn't, I mean, I just know they would want to know you too. I mean how anyone not love Lancer is beyond me."

"Well darling, they never had the same chance as you to grow up on Lancer, Scott has never set foot here, and Johnny was almost two when… well …. You get the pad and pen I'll tell you what to write."

Teresa rushed around gathering up the writing utensils, a smile as wide as the open range of Lancer plastered on her lips, "Oh you'll see. Scott and Johnny will come riding in, guns blazing and save the ranch."

Murdoch chuckled at the young woman, "I told your Daddy those penny-dreadfuls were too much for a young woman's head. He should have read you poetry or…" he stopped at the astounded look on his wards face.

"Murdoch Lancer do I look like some milksop, porcelain, and slipper clad girl from town. Daddy told me a lot of those stories were written by green horns never having set foot in the west, so all that trash written about Johnny Madrid, well I don't hold to all that," a smile curved her lip, "now how his prowess and gentleness with a woman and his dashing good looks…"

"TERESA," Murdoch shouted at his ward, "I think my dear that is enough and I will be having Maria burn all those books. Now get set up at that desk and write what I say."

With a giggle Teresa spread her material on the desktop and held pen over paper, "I'm ready, sir," she stifled another giggle.

Shaking a finger at the girl, "If I could get out of this bed I would turn you over my knee, don't think I don't know your Daddy tanned your behunkus before."

"Murdoch Lancer", the admonishment came from the doorway and from the doctor, Sam Jenkins, "should I come back later?"

"Doctor Jenkins," Teresa jumped up and hugged the country doctor, "you can see he's much better and about to send for Scott and Johnny".

The wrinkled face of Sam Jenkins the entire three-town areas only medical doctor smiled and patted Teresa's shoulder, "as good a medicine I could ever prescribe. Now my dear if you would be so kind run have Maria bring me some hot water and clean towels then I would like you to bring me a cup of coffee and some of those sweet muffins I smelled when I came in."

Teresa grinned, "Of course Doctor Jenkins", looking back over her shoulder, "Maria made a kettle of porridge I could bring you a bowl, you haven't eaten breakfast yet."

Eyeing the doctor, "He hasn't been eating right maybe he needs a dose of castor oil, he is full of mean and hard headedness".

Sam looked over the top of his glasses at his patient; the man had the sense to bow his head with being tattled on, "so that's how it is. Darling you run along I have a few choice words for your, my patient."

Teresa literally bounced out of the room; she knew the doctor who was also a very close friend of Murdoch Lancer would set the wrong-headed man to rights.

It was time the man who was like a second father to her behaved like the patron and "took the bulls by the horns" her Daddy would have said. Her grin fading as tears leaked from her brown eyes, she so missed her Daddy. However, the patron's sons will be coming home, she knew it in her heart, and Lancer would be ready to welcome them home.

"Maria, we have a lot to do…" as her voice echoed down the hallway and back staircase. Maria, the housekeeper, smiled up from the pot of porridge she was stirring. It was good to hear some joy in the chicas voice.

Perhaps she had finally needled the patron into sending for his hijos, "Chica, you are a young lady," Maria admonished as the young woman flew into the room", and you do not shout as some vaquero, now tell me what is happening..."

Teresa hands fluttering in the air related that the patron was indeed sending for his sons, and the good doctor was setting ground rules for the hardheaded patient, "Oh Maria, Lancer will be whole again, the only thing missing will be Daddy. But I know he would be smiling and be happy for the Patron".

"Si chica, all is good. Now let us do as el medico requested", Maria smiled as the young woman had a spring in her step that had been missing for too long. Yes, all will be right at Lancer.

**Better Tree Hours Too Soon**

**Than a Minute Too Late.**

William Shakespeare

Scott sat across the table from the good Doctor Wells, a quack if he had ever seen one, and his grandfather, who was an astute businessman, only heard what he wanted to hear.

Sitting his napkin to the side, "I have an engagement to night, sir, so I will be late. Don't wait dinner on my account." As the lean, tall blond rose from his seat, his grandfather cleared his throat.

"Scotty, Doctor Wells had hoped to discuss your problems tonight. Can this 'engagement wait?"

Scott shot the good doctor a look then turned his grey blue eyes to his grandfather, "I am sorry sir, doctor, but this has been on the calendar for weeks. The final night of Much Ado About Nothing, and Barbara has her heart set on it. She has bought a gown special for it and has accepted invitations for dinner at the Cranston's fete. I am sure you would not want to cause a stir if I broke the young woman's heart."

Harlan Garrett wiped his lips with the linen napkin and looked from the doctor to his grandson, "No that would not be proper Scotty. However, you and Doctor Wells will talk, I insist on it, so mark your calendar I will give you two days to clear your other engagements. Do not disappoint me Scotty."

Scott looked down on his grandfather, 'didn't the man realize he was no longer a child, but a fully grown man?'

Smiling at his grandfather then at the smug faced doctor, he gave a partial bow, "of course grandfather, just permit me a few days to clear my slate. Sir, Doctor Wells, Good day sirs."

Then he turned and walked away, fuming inside. He could only tolerate his grandfather's meddling so far. Something had to change; perhaps Yvette was correct a change of scenery new people an adventure, just what Doctor Lancer ordered.

A decidedly more spring to his step Scott thought upon his date for tonight with the charming and very adventurous Barbara. Yes, things were looking up and he felt a new chapter was turning, smiling as he accepted his hat and cane from the butler, "thank you James".

"You seem lighter today Master Scott," the older man said as he dusted a fleck of toast from a lapel.

"I feel lighter, and happy. I feel something good is about to happen. You have a good day James."

The butler held the door open, "you as well Sir, good day".

Closing the heavy ornate door the butler smiled, he had been with the Garrett household since Harlan Garrett returned with a crying, distraught infant.

Mildred, James's wife, cared for Scott along with their own infant, Michael. Both now passed, Mildred of a broken heart at the death of their young son during the war.

However, Master Scott returned and it was a hard few months as the young man sorted out his nightmares and confusion, but today Scott looked happy, the older man smiled, life was good.

He could hear the Masters raised voice and the Doctors more controlled rejoinder, the man needed to leave he was no more than a quack.

**A Step From a Balcony **

"You're Scott Lancer?"

The man standing before him was lucky he had not reacted more aggressively, "And if I am?"

After a brief discussion, Scott walked away from the Pinkerton agent deeply in thought, Murdoch Lancer, his absent father. Was he supposed to drop everything and run to his sires call?

Looking at the business card, he sniffed and slipped it into his vest pocket, "Indeed not". He spoke to himself as his thoughts ran rampant through his brain.

It was an early evening for Scott, the fiasco in Barbara's apartments, then the Pinkerton agent and the thoughts that ran wild through his mind of a father he had never seen or heard from calling him home like a wayward dog.

Harlan Garrett was like a dog with a bone; he would not give up or retreat. Scott thought the army could have used him during the war, but he was not amused when the older man confronted him at the door and ordered him into the study, "Doctor Wells has consented to stay with us until you have sorted yourself out."

Scott followed like a lap dog behind his grandfather, what was it with these comparisons to a dog? He surly had no use for the furred four legged animals. It was not as if he did not like them, he had just never had one since his grandfather disposed of the mutt Scott had carried home one day.

"Oh Scott, please come sit over here, let's talk shall we," the simpering voice grated on his nerves like nails on a chalk board, but doctor Wells only smiled that ingratiating smile Scott was growing to hate.

"Doctor Wells, Grandfather, while I appreciate all you are trying to do, I decline the offer. I just received another offer that after some thought, I shall accept", pulling the telegram from his pocket, he handed it to the man who raised him from birth.

Stepping over to the liquor cart, he filled a crystal glass with the excellent brandy his grandfather prided himself in; sipping it, he looked over the rim of the glass as his grandfather turned red with indignation or anger, "preposterous, you will not go to this barbarians call. Scotty, why after all these years to call you home, where was he when you were growing up?"

"Perhaps you can tell me, Sir. I stopped by Wilfred's home on my way here, he had some interesting facts I was not aware of", Scott could see the gears grinding in the older man's head.

"Careful what you say sir, it could very well change the life as we know it."

Harlan Garrett puffed out his cheeks and pushed the telegram at the good Doctor Wells, "this is insane Scotty. The man abandoned you here."

Scott sat in the wing back chair and balanced his glass on his crossed legs, "would you like to reiterate that, Sir?" Scott was not about to retreat, "Wilfred told me an interesting story and then backed it up with proof, I was not truly abandoned, was I?"

The last two words said with vehemence and conviction and Scott waited for the untruth to fall from his grandfather's mouth.

Harlan addressed the doctor, "Simon if you be so kind as to leave my grandson and myself alone".

Doctor Wells looked from one man to the other; distressed he nodded and left the room closing the doors, "well, hope the old man will still fund my clinic". He then proceeded up the stairs to his rooms. Thinking to himself, even he, as a mediocre psychologist, could rightly say this family had big trouble.

Harlan poured himself a glass of brandy, drank it down and refilled the glass, looking at his grandson he knew he had already lost him to that barbarian in California, "I cannot give you the explanation you desire Scotty. I wanted you. You were my Catherine's son. He could not give you what you needed."

Scott looked equally at his grandfather, "I did not need a father?"

"I raised you", the older man raising his voice.

"You never gave the man a chance," Scott returned.

Harlan placed the crystal glass gently on the tray and turned back towards his grandson, "If I had left you with him you may never have survived the constant battle for a piece of dried up land, not fit for the pitiful animals he tried to raise. You deserved much better, my daughter, your mother deserved much better. No I did what was right."

Scott nodded, "What was right for you you mean. Wilfred had some correspondence from a lawyer in Morro Coyo, California, on behalf of Murdoch Lancer who sued for custody of his son and the subsequent blocking of the request from the courts."

Harlan flung one hand up in the air, "Scotty use some of that intelligence I paid for from Harvard, the man is a barbarian, a dreamer who took Catherine and filled her head with star dust and unfulfilled sugar dreams."

Pushing himself up from the chair Scott stood and deposited his glass on the side table, "I appreciate all you have given me Grandfather more than I can ever thank you for. You willfully kept me from knowing my father. Oh rest assured he has some explaining to do as to why he waited so long to contact me, however my mind is made up and I will confront the man on his own turf."

Harlan drew himself up, "You mean to do this against my wishes?"

"Yes, Sir I do, it seems only right since you never honored my wishes as a small child when I asked about my father." Scott strode to the door and stopped as his hand turned the knob, "I have already booked my passage. I leave in the morning."

Harlan Garrett did not like to be defeated, and Murdoch Lancer would not do this to him again. Let the boy go and see just what kind of cretin the immigrant from Scotland was. Harlan Garrett does not lose.

Pulling on his waistcoat and smiling to himself, let Scotty, how was it put 'go west,' get these doldrums out of his system. Upon Scotty's return, his grandfather would be here to pick up the pieces, and then the boy could get down to business.

Walking from the study, "James", at the quiet approach of the butler, "My guest will be leaving in the morning. Scott will also be on his way." With a look that made you think the man had just stepped in something disgusting he finished with, "west. See that cook has a hearty breakfast prepared."

The butler did a half bow, "Yes sir, all will be flawless".

**Unexpected Revelations**

Teresa sat quietly in the buckboard, Matt and Jeff standing beside her. All three looked up as the stage rumbled into the small town of Morro Coyo.

Her smile wide she shifted and Jeff reached up to help her down, she hesitated just a second so the dust could settled before she and the two men approached.

A vaquero dressed in leather calzoneres disembarked first then a man and two women, a Jesuit priest and a frilly dressed easterner.

Teresa glanced back at the two ranch hands who shook their heads; they did not know who was Scott Lancer.

Being not the least bit shy she called out, "Ah, Mister Lancer?"

When two men answered to the name, she was confused, and then smiled, "You're Johnny, then you must be Scott Lancer".

The rest is history,

So they say.

Solista

2015


End file.
